


About Your Immortality...

by hlravensnest_archivist



Category: Highlander: The Raven
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-04-30
Updated: 2000-04-30
Packaged: 2018-12-16 21:50:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11837739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hlravensnest_archivist/pseuds/hlravensnest_archivist
Summary: Note from Daire, the archivist: this story was originally archived atHL Raven's Nest. Deciding to give the stories a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address onHL Raven's Nest's collection profile.





	About Your Immortality...

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Daire, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HL Raven's Nest](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HL_Raven%27s_Nest). Deciding to give the stories a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HL Raven's Nest's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hlravensnest/profile).

About Your Immortality.... by Maril Swan

| 

**_About Your Immortality..._**

**by  
Maril Swan aka Chimera**

Disclaimer: this is a work of fiction. The characters, Amanda Montrose, Nick Wolfe, Lucy Becker, Joe Dawson, Duncan MacLeod, are copyright to Davis/Panzer Productions. No copyright infringement is intended nor is any income expected from this story. 

Note: this story takes place before _Dead on Arrival._

* * *

**_Chapter One_**

_A benevolent early spring sun made Paris sparkle. The street was thronged with hurrying crowds that streamed by the outdoor café where a young woman sat alone at a table, engrossed in a book._

  
A yellowed newspaper clipping drifted down onto the table. Berlin,1938. A sharp gasp of surprise escaped as she recognized her own features and his, in an article accompanied by their pictures. A photo fell onto the clipping, showing the same couple stepping off a barge, laughing together. Then a business card landed on top of the other items. The platinum-haired woman adjusted her sunglasses, and picked up the business card which was inscribed "James MacLeod, MD." 

"Dr. MacLeod, I presume?" she quipped, looking up from the card to a very tall, gaunt, dark-haired man staring intently down at her as if gauging her reactions. Oddly, she thought he looked like Sherlock Holmes, cold, somewhat sinister, highly intelligent. His face was angular, almost emaciated, which accentuated his thin, hooked nose and deep-set grey eyes. 

He bowed slightly and offered his hand saying, "Miss Montrose, I believe." 

Amanda reached out rather gingerly, allowing a brief touch and withdrawing her hand. He sat down, uninvited. Her mouth opened to protest at this intrusion, but he cut in quickly with, "Interesting photos, wouldn't you say, Miss Montrose?" in a definite Scottish accent. 

"Not particularly. Is there some significance to them?" she replied casually. 

"To you and Duncan MacLeod, I should say so! The dates, Miss Montrose. 1938 and 1995, almost sixty years apart, and yet look at the faces. No aging at all. That is quite significant, I would say. How would you explain it?" He watched her appraisingly, which Amanda found uncomfortable, making her defensive, angry. 

"I don't have to explain anything. And I don't appreciate a complete stranger assuming he can sit at my table uninvited," she retorted indignantly. 

"Not a complete stranger. I am a distant relative of your good friend, Duncan MacLeod." 

"Whatever. I still don't know you or why you've intruded on my privacy. Excuse my abruptness, but I would prefer my own company." She returned her gaze to her book, but the doctor, unperturbed by her dismissal, hadn't moved. She shot him another sharp glance. "Maybe I didn't make myself clear. I'm waiting for a friend, and would like you to leave." 

"In good time. When I say what I have come to say. Aren't you curious about the clipping and the photos? I certainly was." 

Amanda picked up the newspaper clipping. It was fragile and wrinkled but the features in the photos were clearly hers and Duncan's. "Something about two British spies being sought by the German police." Amanda said, reading the German text without any hesitation. 

"And their names? That was most curious." 

"OK! So now you know the skeleton in the family closet. Duncan's and my grandparents were spies! What of it?" 

"And nearly sixty years later, you and Duncan MacLeod, obviously lovers, are photographed leaving his barge on the Seine." 

"Our families go back a long way together." She shrugged gracefully, and handed back the clipping. 

"I daresay. Or is there another explanation? The photos are of the same two people who never age. As Sherlock Holmes was fond of saying, 'when you have eliminated the possible, what remains, however impossible, must be the truth'." As if mocking Holmes, he steepled his hands in front of his chest. The allusion was not lost on Amanda who shivered slightly at her earlier assessment of the man. 

Amanda checked her watch, frowning slightly, then glanced up and down the street as if expecting someone. Seeing no rescuer, she returned her attention to the doctor. 

"Listen, Dr. MacLeod, if that's your real name. I don't know what your game is, but I'm not playing. If you think you can intimidate me with some retouched photos, you can think again. I don't scare that easily." She laughed acerbically and added, "And if this is your idea of a pick up line in a bar, you really need to work on it." Vexation edged her voice as she checked her watch again, then the street. Clearly annoyed, she grabbed her belongings, and abruptly left the table. 

The doctor hesitated for a second, then followed her, keeping up with the fast pace she was setting. 

"Miss Montrose, I work for the police-forensic pathologist, autopsies, DNA testing - that sort of thing." Amanda stopped abruptly, causing near collisions with other pedestrians. The mention of the police seemed to assuage her fears somewhat. 

"Oh, so that's what this is all about! And I thought it was going to be interesting. You're wasting your time, Doc. Whatever it is, I didn't do it. 'I'm a good girl, I am'," she replied, doing a reasonable mimic of Eliza Doolittle. Amanda strode off causing the doctor to trot to catch up. 

"You're good, I'll give you that," he answered wryly. "Dozens of arrests on suspicion of theft - jewellery, precious gems, art, museum pieces." 

"And no convictions." She asserted, shooting him a withering glance. 

"A testament to your skills." He allowed himself a quick smile. 

"Or the police's lack of them." The pace was still quite rapid as if Amanda had a destination in mind and was in a hurry to get there. The doctor matched her stride for stride. 

"I don't work on robberies, Miss Montrose. Unusual murders is my area of speciality. Some pretty macabre cases come to me. Decapitated bodies, burned beyond recognition by huge charges of electricity." 

"Well, there goes _my_ appetite for lunch. I'm sure this ranks high among pathologists as polite conversation, but..." She shivered slightly. 

"Don't bother to pretend you've never seen one of these decapitation victims. I know better." 

Amanda halted again, confronting the doctor angrily. 

"All right! Why don't you just tell me what this is about. Let's stop fencing." 

"I have a feeling that fencing with you could be fatal." He bowed chivalrously, as a compliment. Amanda swung away and crossed the street, moving gracefully through the traffic. The doctor followed, dodging cars which blasted at him with their horns. 

"Isn't this what the police would call 'stalking'?" she snapped, noting that he was still with her. 

"I suppose. Actually, I have been watching you and Duncan MacLeod for years." 

Amanda gave him a sidelong glance, without breaking stride. "Why? What do you want?" 

"I just want to talk to you, about Duncan MacLeod." 

"We have nothing to talk about. I don't know where he is." She continued moving swiftly down the street, with the doctor still by her side. 

"Miss Montrose, just give me a few minutes of your time." His voice was a bit breathless from the exertion of keeping up with her but he showed no sign of leaving her alone. 

Amanda's patience was exhausted. She muttered under her breath, "OK, you asked for this," and quickly turned down an alley. The doctor was right on her heels. He reached into his pocket just as Amanda whirled and aimed a shattering kick to his mid-section. He dropped, but leapt back up before she could land another blow. Surprised at his agility, and his obvious skill in martial art, she recognized a worthy adversary and lunged again. After several parries and kicks, the doctor entangled her with a hold long enough to jab a syringe into her arm. 

"No fair," she murmured as she collapsed her weight on him. A sleek black Jaguar pulled up at the end of the alley as the doctor half-dragged and half-carried Amanda and deposited her into the back seat. 

As the car sped away, a red-haired woman stepped in front of the alley, watching the car's retreat and speaking urgently into a cell phone. 

* * *

**_Chapter Two_**

Nick marched rapidly away from the café where he had arranged to meet Amanda for lunch. After half an hour of futile waiting, he decided to leave. A block from the café, his cell phone rang. 

"Yeah, OK, I understand. Tell Amanda to have a good time." Nick growled into the phone, a sarcastic edge to his voice. Angrily, he folded his cell phone and was about to put it in his pocket when it buzzed again. 

"Joe, hi, just dandy, ...and you. No, I haven't seen Amanda. We were supposed to meet for lunch but she stood me up. I just got a message from her. She's visiting some old friend, a lord something or other from the north of France. No, I didn't speak to her ...apparently she's too mad at me. He gave me the message." 

Joe's voice cut in urgently, "Amanda's Watcher said she left the café around 11:45 this morning, being pushed into a car by a middle-aged guy - she said she looked drugged. Anyway, her Watcher caught the licence plate number of the car and checked it out. It was a phony." 

Joe paused, and Nick could hear a deeply indrawn breath as he added, "Nick, I think we can assume that Amanda has been kidnapped! Her Watcher got a good look at the guy and his description has been passed to all the other Watchers. So far, no immortals of that description are known. That much is good news at least. I'll keep you posted. Call Lucy, she'll be worried." 

Nick, now visibly shaken, replied, "Thanks, Joe. I'm going back to the café, see if I can pick up any leads there." Flipping his phone away, he retraced his steps to the restaurant. 

  
Amanda, draped on a sofa, was just groggily coming around. She felt disoriented, as she stood and peered around the room as if looking for something familiar. The room was simply furnished with a sofa and chair, two end tables with lamps, a piano, table and chairs. A bottle of wine, a single wineglass, a bowl of fruit and some wedges of cheese were set out invitingly on the table. On the wall were some paintings and mirrors, one large mirror occupying most of the end wall. Amanda squinted against the blindingly brightness of the room. A bookshelf full of books covered part of one wall with a stereo unit attached to it in which there was a collection of CDs. 

Amanda, attempting to walk, found she was still a bit dizzy and leaned on the sofa for support. Her head was fuzzy, and aching as she staggered to a door. There was no handle. Puzzled, she prowled around the apartment, finally seeing another door with a handle. Quickly opening it, she found it lead into a bathroom. Leaning over the sink, she splashed some water in her face, trying to clear her head. Looking wryly into the mirror, she muttered to herself, "I don't think we're in Kansas anymore, Toto." 

Returning to the main room, she noted there were no other doors, and no windows. It suddenly occurred to her that she was imprisoned in this room. 

"What the hell is this place? Am I in prison?" Seeing the large mirror, she directed her attention there. 

"Hey, what am I arrested for? I'm entitled to know. Hey... " much louder and angrier, now right in front of the mirror, "...is there someone out there?" She hammered on the glass with her fist, then snatched up the wine bottle and hurled it at the mirror. 

From the other side of the mirror, Dr. MacLeod instinctively moved back as the bottle hurtled toward the mirror and smashed. Amanda picked up the wineglass, preparing to throw it too. 

"Miss Montrose, Amanda, no more violence, please." At the sound of his voice, Amanda set the glass down. 

The doctor was observing Amanda through a one-way mirror which gave him an unobstructed view of the whole apartment. He was in a laboratory containing computers, instruments and all sorts of electronic equipment. 

"Dr. MacLeod? What the hell is going on? First, you drugged me, and now you've locked me in here. Why?" Amanda's voice was loud and angry, but controlled. 

"Immortality. I may not have your kind but I can try for the other kind. My research results about immortals, when they're published, will give me a place in history." 

"As a lunatic," Amanda snarled. "You'll be laughed out of the scientific community." 

"Hardly, Miss Montrose. When I publish my findings, and have the test subject for proof, no one can dispute me." 

"Test subject? Me? You're planning to keep me in here? For how long?" Amanda's voice had a dangerous edge to it. The doctor sensed another outbreak of destruction is imminent and spoke quickly, calmly. 

"Amanda, I have been compiling data on your ...uh, kind for years, but until now, have never been able to get this close to one of you. Your camouflage has been perfect. I could walk right past one of you and never know it," he said somewhat wonderingly. 

"I wish you had!" growled Amanda. She seated herself on the floor, a short distance from the mirror, still feeling the effects of the drug. 

"I'd like to give you a quick background to my interest in you and Duncan MacLeod, if you'll permit me." 

"Do I have a choice?" 

"My family comes from Glenfinnan on Loch Shiel, so I am a descendant of the MacLeod clan of which Duncan is also a member. Each generation of MacLeods, back to antiquity, has kept clan records - births, deaths, marriages, events in the life of the clan MacLeod. My mother had charge of those clan records, and when she died, over twenty years ago, I was entrusted with them. It makes for pretty dull reading mostly, except for a couple of entries here and there over the centuries." 

Amanda yawned without subtlety, and looked bored. Unperturbed, the doctor continued his narrative. 

"For instance, around the early 1590s , a foundling was brought to the clan chieftain, and having no son of his own, he adopted the lad. The clan record shows a baptism for Duncan MacLeod in 1592. About twenty-eight years later, the death of Duncan MacLeod is recorded. A notation in the book, shows that Duncan somehow survived the fatal wound and returned to his family. Superstitious as they were then, the clan thought he was a demon and drove him away. He returned again a couple of years later to avenge his father's death and slew a Viking named Kanwulf, who had been terrorizing the region. He disappears for over a hundred years when we again hear of him on the Continent. A clansman met him at a wealthy woman's estate where he was having his portrait done by the clansman's fiancée. The clansman recognized the tartan and found that he was addressing Duncan MacLeod of the Glenfinnan MacLeods." 

Taking out a photo, he placed it on a tray, pressing a button. The tray slid through the wall into the other room. Amanda picked it up and glanced at it cursorily, then more closely. A look of surprise and pleasure crossed her face. The doctor noted this with an air of satisfaction. Amanda dropped it back on the tray as if it were nothing of interest. 

"That is a photo of an oil painting which I now have in my possession. It was badly damaged and placed in an attic. About sixty years ago, an alert art dealer, preparing to sell off an estate, recognized the clan tartan, called my mother, and she was able to purchase and restore it." 

"Where is the painting now?" asked Amanda, studying the painting with a speculative gleam in her eye. 

"In a safe place. Over twenty years ago, I was called in by the police on a strange case. A decapitated body. You may have seen one or two?" No answer followed, so he continued. "Not only was it headless, but it looked as if it had received huge charges of electricity. Identification was impossible, due to the condition of the body, but I kept some tissue samples. We had no DNA testing then, but I was young, inexperienced, curious. Checking through the police files, I found several similar cases at other times and in other places. My first thought was a serial killer with peculiar tendencies." 

"Haven't they all?" 

"Then I began to suspect ritual murders by a cult, or an execution. In fact, that seems to be the police line on these deaths, so far all unsolved. Cult murders, which of course, they are." 

"As usual, doctor, you are a long time getting to the point. How long do you plan to keep me here?" 

"A little more of your patience, please. Also around that time I came into possession of the clan archives. There was a letter sent from the Continent, in 1672, from a clansman to his parents. He said that he had met with his kinsman, Duncan MacLeod. Remember that this fellow would have been just a lad when Duncan was banished. He was astonished to see that Duncan had not aged a day in over 30 years. Not a day, he stated. With the other evidence I had gathered, I began to think the unthinkable - Duncan MacLeod was immortal. Now I have proof of it. As I can prove that you are like him." 

"So far, your story has bored me almost comatose." 

The doctor slid another item through to her. "I think you will recall this newspaper clipping which I showed you earlier. This was from a 1938 Berlin newspaper. As you said, the story is about two British spies who were being sought by the German police. Apparently, they escaped, but not without attracting some notoriety. Note the names with the pictures, _Duncan MacLeod_ and _Amanda Montrose._ The article says he was posing as an antique dealer and she as a chanteuse in a night club." 

"I can read!" Amanda said with asperity, studying the fragile copy. 

"Names, of course, mean nothing, but the faces from 1938, from 1752, they tell a very intriguing story, don't they. My last two photos, this one taken in 1955 at some Paris gala by a street photographer and printed in Paris Match. No names but look at the faces, you and Duncan MacLeod. And this one, taken by me in 1995, forty years later, of Duncan MacLeod and Amanda Montrose stepping off his barge on the Seine. While I have aged according to my biological years, you and Duncan have not. How do you explain that?" 

"All this proves is that there is a very strong family resemblance between generations. MacLeod's ancestors have all been warriors, and later, antique dealers, apparently." 

"And yours have always been thieves?" 

"Look, I've been very patient. You said you would come to the point. So what is it? What do you want?" Amanda had been trying hard to keep her composure, but she was no longer enjoying the way the conversation was going. 

"As fascinating as my kinsman, Duncan MacLeod, is, you have proven to be even more so. As I said, I am a doctor, specializing in genetics. I work for the police occasionally to do forensic testing for their cases. With this position, I have access to police files. On a whim, I ran your name through the Interpol and British police files. You know what I found." 

"More photos?" Amanda, leaning on her hand, smiles a bit impudently but her eyes show no mirth. 

"A record of arrests, going back over two hundred years to when the police began to keep records, for suspicion of theft - jewellery, art, gems, museum artifacts, papers - Amanda Montrose. And yes, in later police files, there are photos of you, some of them at least fifty years old. Your name has continued to be connected with thefts right up to about a year ago. Do you know what that makes you? 

"Wealthy?" Amanda laughed. 

"Over two hundred years old." 

"Didn't your mother ever tell you it was rude to guess a girl's age. Anyway, I have never been convicted of a crime. It's been a case of 'round up the usual suspects', and of course, with my family history, I was a natural suspect. Nothing has ever been proven against me. As you have no real proof about immortals. It's just a fantasy of yours." 

The doctor dropped a tattered old book into the tray and slid it into the room. Amanda gave it a curious glance but left it on the tray. 

"Do you know what this is?" 

"My guess is that it's a book," she said sarcastically 

"More than that. It's a journal." 

"And I should be interested because..." 

"Your name appears in it several times. Look at the writing, the dates. I have had it authenticated. All the entries are from the same writer, in the mid 1600s. Read the passage I have bookmarked, if you please." 

Amanda shrugged, and picking up the fragile book, carefully opened it to the marked page and read aloud. _"My immortal crossed swords with Amanda Montrose today. She, being the victor, has left me without an assignment. I shall take up as Amanda's Watcher until I am given another immortal."_

"And the date?" 

"April 21, 1638, anno domini. All this proves is that he was writing a fantasy story, like _Gulliver's Travels._ Who could take that seriously?" 

"Your name appears in it quite often, as well as a very good description of you." 

"It's probably a coincidence. There must have been many other women in history with my name, why not in fiction too?" 

"Pull out the loose page and take a look at that." 

Amanda slid the page out and was aghast at the sketched likeness of herself. She tried for nonchalance but was having difficulty being convincing. She seemed to be considering her next tack and asked, "So what are you after with all this - solving an old crime - settling an old score? What is it?" 

"I want immortality, Miss Montrose, and I want your cooperation to help me get it." 

Amanda, completely taken aback, suddenly laughed. "Immortality, Doctor? I can't give you that any more than I could get it for myself! This is just too weird! So you think you have found us out." 

Her eyes narrowed as she glared into the mirror where she estimated the doctor to be. "Remember those bodies, doctor, and take warning. Right now, as we speak, there are people, friends, looking for me. And when they find me, your life, and your work will be finished. I will personally take great pleasure in disposing of it, and you." 

Amanda strode purposefully away from the mirror, then whirled and made a swift powerful slice through the air, as if with a sword. "Have I made myself clear?" she said coldly. 

The doctor, unnerved momentarily, had a little trouble getting control of his voice. He replied with false bravado, "No one can find you, Amanda. There is no trail to lead them here. You have no idea where you are, do you? You could be in France, Italy, Scotland. Anywhere. How long were you unconscious? You don't know. What day is it? How long have you been here? For all you know, a week could have passed. Maybe they've given up." 

"Immortals giving up, in only a week? Our vengeance goes on for centuries. We don't forget or give up. Save yourself. Let me go. I swear I won't let anyone harm you." 

"And my work? You can't allow it, and I can't allow you to leave until I have my preliminary results. Then it will be too late. There would be no point in killing me as someone else will simply continue the research." The doctor paused, trying to sound reasonable. 

He continued in a lighter tone. "Besides, I have placed every convenience at your disposal - food, wine, books, music. What more could you want?" 

His manner rankled Amanda as she paced restlessly around the room as if measuring the size of her prison, her rising temper showing in her quick, staccato movements. 

"My freedom! You left out that particular necessity! How dare you imprison me here like some lab animal. I'm a human being and I have rights!" Amanda yelled, standing very close to the mirror. Strident laughter made her stagger back, shocked and alarmed. 

"A human being? Is that what you think you are? A human being?" More laughter roared out through the speakers, almost hysterical. 

Amanda recoiled from the sound, visibly shaken by the mad laughter, moving almost involuntarily away from the mirror. 

"Haven't you ever wondered what you are, where you came from, what you're doing here?" The doctor's arrogant voice rang out loudly through the room, causing Amanda to raise her hands to block out the sound. 

"Of course, everyone does," she answered defensively. Thoughts seem to be crowding through Amanda's mind as she said somewhat tentatively, "Do you know what we are? Dr. MacLeod, do you know what we are?" Her voice was urgent but restrained. 

The doctor seemed chagrined by his outburst as he replied, somewhat apologetically. "No, I don't. Yet. I only know, or actually, theorize, that you're not human, not entirely. Maybe not at all." 

All the fight seemed to have deserted Amanda as she moved over to the nearest chair and dropped into it. "What makes you think we're not human?" Amanda asked, still in shock at this unnerving disclosure. 

"What made you think you were?" the doctor retorted somewhat waspishly. "Immune to all human afflictions, unable to be killed except by decapitation, spontaneously healing, living for centuries. Does that sound human to you?" 

"We have the same biology - breathe air, require food and warmth, and love. Of course we're human, just another branch." Amanda's voice was uncertain, unconvincing. 

"Please look at the computer monitor on the table." The monitor crackled to life and Amanda moved toward it. 

"As mentioned, I am a genetic specialist. My interest in longevity has led me on this path for over twenty years, trying to solve the mystery of Duncan MacLeod ...and later, his friend Amanda Montrose. Mysteries are meant to be solved." 

"Mysteries are meant to remain mysteries!" Amanda rejoined. 

"I have ascertained to my satisfaction that Duncan is over four hundred years old, and you, Amanda, probably about the same." He paused for a comment, and receiving none, continued. 

"I examined the tissue sample for DNA from the decapitation victim a few years ago. Then I tested some DNA from hair samples I obtained from MacLeod's barge. And lastly, I have tissue samples from you, taken a few hours ago while you were unconscious, as well as blood samples." 

At this, Amanda, hotly indignant, leapt to her feet. "You're a ghoul, you sick son of a bitch! What kind of doctor are you? How dare you take advantage of me when I was helpless?" 

"Well, I didn't take your head," he answered coolly. "Getting back to the DNA. You'll excuse me if I am boring on the subject, but it _is_ my life's work. I now have three samples of those I suspect of being immortal and the fourth one is my own. Look at the DNA strands on the monitor, Amanda." 

"So, what am I supposed to see? I'm not a scientist!" 

"From the beginning to a certain point, the strands are all different, as one would expect. Now, as we move further along, note that the top three are identical from there to the end. Identical in every respect." 

A look of horror passed over Amanda's face as the implication sank in. 

"You mean, MacLeod and I are related - like brother and sister?" She reeled away from the screen as if it were a viper, poised to strike. "Oh my god, oh my god." Too shocked to speak, Amanda began to pace furiously while the doctor tried to recapture her attention. 

"Amanda, Miss Montrose, please listen. You're not related - at least not biologically. The end strands of your DNA are, I believe, manufactured." 

"Oh great! Now you're saying I'm some sort of android? Marvellous! That's a lot easier to take!" 

Amanda, still very shaken, wandered away from the mirror, trying to regain her composure, muttering to herself. "Maybe this is just a bad dream I'm having, and I'll wake up soon. Please, let this just be a bad dream." She drifted over to the sofa and slumped into it. 

"Amanda! "The doctor's voice cut sharply into the room, startling Amanda almost as if she had forgotten him. "You're not an android or whatever. You _are_ a biological being, maybe just not a human one. I have a theory, if you would care to hear it." 

"So far, your theories have caused me a tremendous stress headache. Well, I obviously haven't got anything better to do. Let's have it." 

"I theorize that beings, probably not terrestrial, wanted to gain a foothold on this planet but couldn't live here because their biology is so different. So they have been taking human embryos, injecting them with their own genetic code and possibly then implanting the embryos into a womb-like environment. The fetuses would grow normally and at a certain point, the infant would be placed on the Earth. The infants may be left where they would be found by humans, and raised as their own." 

"An alien race with the maternal instincts of cuckoos. Nice theory, doc. It really makes me feel a whole lot better." Amanda, now back to her usual feisty self, resumed pacing the room. 

Amanda continued, "So, what do you think? That MacLeod and I, and all the other immortals are planning to take control of the Earth at some predetermined moment in time. You know what? Immortals aren't known for their team spirit. When two immortals meet, only one walks away." 

"Why?" 

"There can be only one," Amanda answered cryptically. 

"Actually, I think you are a species that poses some danger to humans, if only because of the power of immortality. Why haven't any of you done anything for humanity...besides killing each other?" 

"How do you know that the great musicians, artists, scientists, weren't immortals. Think about that. Maybe they make their contribution, then move on to continue their work. Maybe human history is filled with immortals who have been benefiting humanity. How would anyone know the difference?" 

The doctor wasn't buying into her theory. It ran too much counter to his own, that immortals were dangerous and possibly evil. "Who are these immortals, then. Which of the greats are they?" he snapped back. 

Ignoring his question, she continued on, now warming to a rage. "It's you," she pointed straight at the mirror, " who want to control the world. You and your science. You think you should experiment and create things just because you can. Mysteries are meant to be solved even if it causes new viruses to be unleashed, new weapons to be created. Maybe you should examine your true motives, doctor, before you get something started that you can't control. Quit now before you become a _shatterer of worlds._ " 

The reference to the atom bomb struck home and the doctor was speechless for several seconds. "Amanda, I can't stop now. There's too much at stake. I've invested years in this, every penny I've got. I have to be allowed to complete my research." he said desperately. 

"Your research for what? To bring about the greatest evil since the Inquisition and the witch hunts? I was there, barely escaping many times with my own life. I saw thousands die horribly. I saw what superstition, fear and lust for power can do. Your revelations will make that seem like a Sunday picnic. What would someone not do for a longer life, a chance at immortality? What you're doing now? Multiply that by thousands, and you can see where this is leading." 

"Imagine, Amanda, a world with no disease, no cancers, no AIDS, no killer viruses. Bodies would heal spontaneously. Imagine the brilliant, the talented, the athletes, staying at their peak for centuries. How far could humanity reach? The stars? Yes, imagine astronauts who could travel for centuries. What mysteries and discoveries would be revealed." 

"Imagine legions of immortal soldiers who can't be killed. Imagine drug lords and gang leaders who can live for centuries. Imagine terrorists who don't fear death because they know they'll be back to strike again. You'll excuse my pessimism, but I have lived through some pretty horrific times, and I have a rather dark view of humanity. Expect the worst and you'll always be prepared, Doc. Words to survive by." 

Amanda, leaning against the mirror, inches from the doctor, was earnestly trying to convince him but he seemed abstracted, obsessed. She went on, trying to reason with him. 

"Doctor MacLeod, you must know your discoveries would be taken over by governments who would want to control whatever serum or drug you manage to create. They would decide who gets to be immortal or not. If they let you live at all, you would be just as much a prisoner as you have made me. Do you expect governments to behave more honourably than you?" 

"It won't be like that. The scientific community will rally behind me. The people, when they hear about my discovery, will demand it be used democratically. Amanda, if anyone tried to suppress or control this, there would be rebellion." Realizing that he seem to be making her argument for her, he stopped, unable to clarify his thoughts. 

Taking advantage of his confusion, Amanda cut in."And what about us? Anyone suspected of being an immortal would be hunted like animals, captured, experimented on, used for research or body parts. Is that the world you want? Is that your version of humanity?" 

"There's more to this for me. I have cancer. It's in remission for now, but I know I don't have long, maybe two or three years. If I can develop an effective treatment from your plasma, I might have a chance to complete my research. I've already been injecting myself with some serum." 

"Are you completely out of your mind!? Injecting yourself with an unknown substance? I don't mean to be insensitive, but what if you die or go into a coma? What happens to me? I'll be trapped in here for god knows how long!" 

"I've already taken precautions. The motion sensor in the lab is set so that if there is no movement for twenty-four hours, the door will release. I have no intention of letting any harm come to you, Amanda." 

* * *

**_Chapter Three_**

"Joe, I've got the motor vehicles people checking on all the black Jags registered in Europe and the UK. I told them I was an undercover cop working on a drug bust. So far, I have over a hundred to check. It's going to take a lot of time. I could use some help. What about the Watchers?" 

"Sorry, Nick, no can do. It's the rules of the game." 

"Yeah, I know - non-interference. By the way, I got a good description of the guy from the café owner. He said the man had a Scottish accent and he overhead the name MacLeod mentioned. Don't know if he was looking for Duncan MacLeod and grabbed Amanda instead or what. Here's the description: middle-aged about 50, tall, over 6 feet, fit-looking, well-groomed, Saville Row type suit, no facial hair, greying hair, carrying a briefcase. Apparently, he also showed Amanda some pictures, and the café owner thought they were having a bit of an argument. Since it was early, he wasn't too busy so he watched them for a while. He said he considered calling the police as the way the guy took her off after her didn't seem right. But by then the lunch rush was starting and he forgot about it. That's all I've got so far." Nick paused, and closed his notebook, shoving it into his leather jacket. 

He reached for the key of his SUV, then hesitated, adding, "Oh, except when I gave the description to Lucy, she said she noticed someone like that sitting on a park bench across the road from the apartment yesterday. He attracted her attention because he was there for so long, and as she said, was strikingly handsome. Well, she actually said, 'a hunk'. Anyway, a guy like that attracts notice so it's only a matter of time before we know who he is. Joe, if we could only get the police in on this, it would go a lot faster. They have access to artists, files. It would help us find Amanda so much faster." 

"Nick, don't even think of it. We take care of our own. Involving the police would do more harm than good." 

"OK, Joe. I just don't like feeling so helpless." 

"Hang tight. I'll get you some help." 

* * *

**_Chapter Four_**

_Laboratory, that evening_

Amanda is sleeping on the sofa, and the doctor can be seen working in the lab on instruments, making notes. He seems disappointed and grim as if the experiments aren't turning out as he hoped. 

More time passes. The lab is darkened. Amanda is now awake and prowling, beginning to feel caged in, cabin fever setting in. Her movements are quick and nervous, like energy about to be released. 

  
"Dr. MacLeod!" she called out, not hearing any sounds from the lab. No response. Approaching the mirror, she slammed her fist on it. It echoed hollowly then, silence. 

"Dr. MacLeod!" she shouted, louder with a bit of desperation in her voice. Still no response. Anger and terror fought for sway and anger won as Amanda grabbed a chair and smashed the computer monitor. Out of control now, she tipped over the bookshelf, spilling all the books and began hurling them in all directions. Seizing a wine bottle she shied it at the mirror. One after the other she hurled any objects that came to hand against the unseen enemy behind the mirror. The room became a shambles, and still Amanda rampaged on. 

In the interior of the laboratory, lights went on. The doctor, just returning, was astonished by the destruction she had wrought and for a second, seemed indecisive about how to handle it. Anger crossed his face. 

He yelled into the microphone, trying to be heard over the din of smashing articles. "Stop - Amanda - Stop! Stop this, please. I don't want to harm you, but you must stop!" 

Hearing his voice, Amanda hurled a bottle at the mirror and looked around for more ammunition. She paused as she heard the sound of gas hissing into the room. Trying to escape, she stumbled backward, falling over some broken furniture and passed out. The door opened and the doctor entered, wearing a gas mask, wheeling in a gurney. He picked Amanda up, and placed her on the gurney. Noticing that she had glass shards stuck into her arms, he carefully pulled them out. A little bleeding then miraculously, the wound healed. He shook his head wonderingly. 

"I'll never get used to this." he said, his voice somewhat muffled by the mask. He manacled Amanda with the restraint cuffs on the gurney, then turned his attention to the absolute shambles surrounding him. With resignation, he began to methodically clean up the mess. 

  
_The lab. Late afternoon_

The room is tidy again. Amanda is still restrained and unconscious on the gurney. The doctor is checking her pulse. Beside him is a cart with vials of blood samples, obviously just taken. 

Amanda smiled slightly as if having a pleasant dream. The doctor, unable to resist, brushed his lips gently over hers. To his surprise, she responded. The kiss deepened into a passionate intensity that left him breathless. Amanda sighed against his cheek, "Duncan." He recoiled as if slapped. 

The sudden movement jars Amanda fully awake. Realizing what just transpired, she is outraged almost beyond reason. "Get away from me! If you come near me again, I'll kill you, you bastard. You sorry excuse for a man." 

Noticing the vials of blood, hers, she lunged at the doctor but the restraints hold. Instinctively, he moved back. 

Spitting angry, she snarled at him. "I'll kill you if you touch me again! I swear I'll hunt you to the ends of the earth and I'll kill you!" 

The doctor backed out of the room, dragging the cart and leaving Amanda still in restraints. Back in his lab, he leaned against a wall, humiliation and remorse etched on his face. Shaking his head as if to clear it, he peered into the room. Amanda was silently trembling with rage as tears of frustration coursed down her cheeks. The doctor was too overwrought to speak. He pressed a button on the console. 

A buzz sounded and the restraint cuffs snapped open. Amanda slid off the gurney, massaging her wrists. Without looking toward the mirror, she walked across the room to prop herself behind the sofa, out of the view of her captor. Holding her head in her hands, she fought to regain her tenuous self-control. 

_Come on, Amanda. Pull yourself together. You've been in tougher spots than this,_ she thought. _But there's never been so much at stake. If he gets to publish what he knows!_ She held herself very tightly as she considered her next move. 

  
_Hours later_

Amanda, her composure restored, is standing at the table, eating some grapes. 

"Even immortals have to eat. What about it, Doc? When's dinner?" Amanda seemed quite subdued, as if all her fight has gone. Disconsolately, she wandered around the room, unable to rest anywhere. 

"I have ordered something for us. It should be here anytime now." Hesitantly, he adds, "Amanda, I'm so sorry. But mostly, I'm sorry I'm not Duncan." 

"So am I," she added, barely audible. 

  
_Later, the remains of a meal can be seen on the table._

Amanda was back to pacing, prowling, picking up books, magazines, setting them down. Boredom showed as she couldn't seem to find anything to do. Time obviously hung heavy. The doctor watched her apprehensively, expecting another rampage. The signs were there again but Amanda seemed to have lost the heart for it. She drifted over to the piano, trilled over the keys, then sat down and began to play Für Elise, softly and with feeling. She shifted on to other tunes, then a speak-easy jazz piece. Now really into the music, Amanda launched into the tune she sang as a chanteuse in the Berlin night club. 

"Hey mister, I'm nobody's sister..." Amanda smiled as the memory of that occasion swept her away. The doctor stopped his work and watched, mesmerized. 

Like a cloud passing over the sun, Amanda's mood changed. She began hammering on the keys in frustration, creating a cacophony of discordant noise. The doctor turned off the speaker and returned to his work. Through the glass, Amanda could be seen but not heard crashing on the piano keys. Oblivious to her distress, the doctor prepared a syringe, made some notes and injected himself. 

  
_Some time passes_

The doctor glanced into the room and Amanda was nowhere in sight. A sudden panic gripped him as he looked around the lab as if expecting her to leap out at him. He flipped on the speaker and the sound of water splashing could be heard. 

"She's just having a shower," he laughed with evident relief. 

"Dr. MacLeod? Did you think to bring a change of clothes for me?" Amanda sang out from the bathroom door, wearing only a towel. She smiled beguilingly and continued. 

"A shower is just what the doctor ordered. I feel like a new woman. Know where I can get one?" She gave him a seductive wink. A heavy sigh from the doctor is audible in the room. 

"Look in the bureau drawers. There are some serviceable things, maybe not your style. But you'd look good in a potato sack." 

"A compliment at last!" Amanda said, sending the doctor her most alluring look. 

"I can see how a man could lose his head over you," said the doctor grudgingly. 

"Some have." 

"Like a female mantis, luring a man in, then at the supreme moment, taking his head!" 

"I'm not heartless. I usually wait till he's had his cigarette." 

"What are you creatures? I've seen your handiwork on my autopsy table. How can you do it, Amanda?" The doctor was getting worked up, losing his tight control on his emotions. 

"Maybe it's self-defense. Did that ever occur to you? The only way to survive is to be a better fighter. Survival, like anyone would want. Can you blame a girl for that?" 

"You're not a girl, you're a woman. Try acting like one for a change." He was perspiring and checked his pulse, worriedly. 

"Sorry. I can't. I'm not human, remember?" 

"Well, I am human, and I can only take so much..." He paused, staggered, knocking some vials onto the floor. Trying to catch his breath, he hung onto a table for support. With a trembling hand, he made some notes, checking his vital signs and adding more notes. He stooped to pick up the glass shards and cut himself. The wound bled for a second, stopped and healed. Scarcely breathing, he cut himself again. Again the wound healed spontaneously. 

"Amanda, it worked! My god, it worked!" Laughing maniacally, he cut himself again with the same result. 

Amanda, now dressed, was sitting on the sofa, distractedly leafing through a magazine. "What are you on about now?" 

"I healed - spontaneously! Your plasma contains something which triggers and accelerates the healing process. Now if I can isolate it and identify it, maybe it can be synthesized!" 

His voice was breathless with excitement, eyes sparkling somewhat madly. It was his Eureka moment but Amanda didn't seem to be sharing it. She seemed far from pleased, pensive. Her very silence drew his attention as she stared off into space, thinking. Disappointed with her reaction, the doctor tried to draw her into his moment of triumph. 

"Amanda, this has happened much more quickly than I expected, hoped for. It won't take nearly as long as I thought. You'll soon have your freedom, and I....will have immortality." He chuckled to himself. Dismissing Amanda with a shrug as she continued to be unresponsive, he began making notes furiously. 

After several minutes, Amanda spoke, her voice restrained. 

"There are certain things about us you don't know. We can't reproduce - never have children. Anyone taking the serum may live a lot longer, but will never have a family. Think about that, James. No family, no children, never have that kind of love. It's a high price to pay. And you go on paying it for a long, long time." A melancholy seemed to have settled on Amanda as she continued to stare sightlessly ahead. 

"Included in my research in genetics has been experiments in _in vitro_ fertilization. A couple of days ago, I took a human embryo and injected it with your genetic material. It is reproducing normally so far. The next step would be to implant the embryo into a host mother. You can reproduce." 

Amanda leapt to her feet, stunned by this news. She seemed to having difficulty speaking. 

"Is it male or female?" 

"Doesn't matter." The doctor was looking through a microscope and hadn't noticed her reaction. "I will end the experiment before it begins to develop much further. Right now, it's just a cluster of cells." 

"If it developed into a child, would it look like me?" 

"As much as any child resembles its parent, I should imagine." He seemed oblivious to the torrent of emotion working through Amanda. 

The torrent erupts as Amanda loses what tenuous control she had been maintaining. "You monster! Frankenstein. Jekyll!" she shrieked at the mirror, then sank to the floor, muttering under her breath, "I've got to get out. I'm going mad in here." 

Back to the mirror, pleading. "You've got to let me out! In the name of humanity, in the name of anyone you care about, please, let me go." 

"Everyone I care about is dead," the doctor stated flatly. "My wife and two children were killed in a plane crash over fifteen years ago. Terrorists. I have no one but myself and my work. And, of course, now I have you." 

"You don't have me! When I get loose, I'll kill you with my bare hands, I swear I will!" Her emotions have again reached the flash point as the doctor watched, startled. 

Grabbing the gurney, Amanda used it as a battering ram against the door. After being slammed against the door many times, the gurney was destroyed but the door held. Fearing another onslaught of destruction, the doctor reached for a switch, but then Amanda stopped as suddenly as she began. Breathing heavily, she went back to lie on the sofa, staring sightlessly. 

* * *

**_Chapter Five_**

_The next morning_

Nick held his cell phone close to his ear, his features haggard from loss of sleep. "It's been four days, Joe. So far...no calls, no ransom note, nothing at all from the kidnapper. We've checked all but three of the Jags, and those, we can't find. Dead end." He sighed wearily. 

"What about the MacLeod the café guy mentioned. Scottish accent - could be his name is MacLeod." 

"Yeah, Joe, I've been working that angle too. Do you have any idea how many MacLeods there are in Scotland? Not to mention how many ways to spell it. I've concentrated on the Glenfinnan MacLeods. Nothing yet. My contact is checking out anyone born in Glenfinnan forty to sixty years ago named MacLeod. Oh, there's a call coming in. Could be her. I'll call you back." 

"Nick Wolfe. Only three - two men and a woman. Just give me the men's names. James and Andrew - novel names. Brothers. Address? Great, got it! Thanks a million, Kathy." 

Ringing Joe back, Nick's voice was animated and he sounded more hopeful. "Joe, got some names. James or Andrew MacLeod. I'll start checking and get back to you." 

  
_Later, in the lab_

The doctor, perspiring heavily, was labouring for breath and trembling. His vision seemed blurred as his hand searched for the syringe. Just as he grasped it, he plunged to the floor, unconscious. The crash echoed loudly in the speakers. 

Amanda listened intently. Silence. Approaching the mirror, she called out, "Dr. MacLeod? James? Are you all right?" Total eerie stillness beat around her ears. 

She stood frozen, almost unable to breathe. "Good god, he's dead! Now I'm really trapped!" The momentary panic passed as she shook herself, thinking aloud, "Get a grip, Amanda. Let's see. Everything is this room seems to be connected electronically to the lab on the other side of the mirror. However, the mirror seems unbreakable." 

Glancing at her diamond ring, a sly smile spread over her face. "Diamonds are a girl's best friend." 

She sprang to the mirror, and using the ring, tried to cut a hole in the glass. No luck. 

"OK, that's out. Brawn won't work, let's try brain." Looking around she noticed the smashed gurney with its electronics dangling. A smile flashed across her face. She was on familiar ground. Using a nail file, she unscrewed the pieces and began assembling a device. She dragged the cord out of a lamp, fastening it to the device, and after several shocks, the door buzzed and swung open. 

Amanda rushed out, finding the doctor alive but unconscious. She wrestled with a moment of indecision as she fought down the urge to escape. She began to search the laboratory. Finding a cell phone in the doctor's briefcase, she dialled Nick. He answered immediately. 

"Nick, it's Amanda! I'm OK, but we've got some major trouble here. I don't know where here is. I'm trapped in a lab. Can you trace this call? Wait, he's coming around." 

The doctor, suddenly finding Amanda free, threw himself at her. In his weakened condition, he was no match for Amanda. She stunned him with a quick jab to the nose and he collapsed, semi-conscious . Taking the lamp wire, she quickly tied him up. 

The doctor stirred and found Amanda holding a syringe to his carotid. His nose was bleeding. 

"What's the address of this place?" He shook his head and Amanda pushed the syringe point in, ready to press the plunger. "I don't know what's in this needle, but you get the point. The address, right now, or your immortality will be very brief." 

"1123 rue des Rois, lower level." 

"Did you get that? Great! Now, here's the problem. We'll need Joe on this one." 

  
_Some time passes._

The doctor, now fully conscious, seemed resigned to his fate. Amanda wandered absently around the laboratory, looking at the equipment, the notes. Suddenly, she stopped. 

"Where is it?" she asked urgently. 

"Where is what?" his tone flat. 

"The embryo - which of these dishes is it in?" 

"Why?" he asked wearily. 

"Just tell me!" Amanda gave him a violent shake. He lolled back against the desk. 

"In that chamber," the doctor answered, nodding toward a box-like piece of equipment across the room. "Temperature has to be kept constant. It's in there." 

Amanda peered in the window of the chamber at a petri dish with a cloudy substance in it. A tender, sad look passed over her features. She hesitated for a moment, taking a deep breath, then yanked open the door and threw the dish into a pail. 

"Why did you do that?" he asked, his eyes following her as she strode quickly away. 

Amanda just shrugged, unable to speak. 

"I thought when you got free, you were going to kill me. Why didn't you?" 

"I'm not a murderer, Dr. MacLeod, just a retired, or maybe semi-retired, thief." She smiled slightly at the thought. 

"What happens now? If you're not going to kill me, and you can't afford to let my research get published, what are you going to do?" 

"Nothing. I'm not going to do anything. It isn't up to me what happens to you. You've sealed your own fate, meddling where you had no right. Some of my friends and associates are on their way here, and it's out of my hands now." 

"For what it's worth and whether you believe me or not, Amanda, I never meant to harm you. My work hasn't been my only obsession. It was you, too. From the moment I first saw your photo, I have been obsessed by the need to know you, get close to you. As crazy as it sounds now, I had hoped our relationship might have developed into something..." the doctor sighed heavily, and added, "...close. I hoped you would share my dreams of conquering death and disease, and give up this wicked life of killing your own kind. I vainly hoped you might even come to love me in time." 

He drew a shaky breath and leaned back against the desk, then noticed the blood dripping onto his shirt. "I'm bleeding." He laughed harshly, despair in his voice, as he looked at the bright drops, and then at Amanda. 

Comprehension of his failure dawned in Amanda's face as she understood what this meant. Compassion flooded her features as she got a tissue to staunch the flow and wiped his face. Like two combatants who have exhausted their resources, the doctor and Amanda waited in silence for the others to arrive. 

_Time passes._

The sound of steps pounding down stairs and then a sharp rap on the door announced the arrival of her friends. 

"How do I open the door?" 

"Press the top button on the console." The doctor's eyes widened with fear. 

Amanda pressed the button and Nick rushed in. They embraced briefly, then Nick turned his angry gaze on the doctor, then back to Amanda, as if ascertaining that she was really there. He saw the dark circles under her eyes and the anxiety in them, and flexed his hands into fists. She had been here in this prison for four days! In his relief, Nick felt an impotent rage. He had been unable to find her until she had freed herself. 

"Amanda, are you all right? I'll break his neck if he harmed you!" She put a restraining hand on Nick's chest. 

"I'm fine now, Nick. Really. Not harmed at all. Look. All in one piece." She smiled gamely. 

Scarcely pacified, Nick glared at the doctor. At that moment, Joe entered stiffly dragging himself over to Nick and Amanda. He, too, stared at the object of their concern. 

"Well," said Joe finally, "let's do what we came to do." There was anger in his tone but resignation too, as if this were an unpleasant task at hand. 

Amanda moved between Nick, Joe and the doctor. "Wait. I've been thinking. There's a chance for a compromise here. James is a brilliant, if somewhat obsessed, scientist. His research could be important someday. It seems wrong to destroy a man and his work without trying to understand it." 

She looked at both men pleadingly. Surprised, they exchanged a glance, and said at the same time, "Stockholm Syndrome." 

Amanda brushed that off with "Don't be ridiculous. I'm probably immune to that too." The wry humour seemed to defuse the tension in the room. 

"Come with me, Joe. I have an idea that should save us all from an unpleasant business." She led Joe into the next room where they could be seen talking animatedly through the glass. Joe shook his head as Amanda seemed intent on pressing her point. Finally, he shrugged, evidently giving in to her, and she hugged him warmly. 

Amanda went over to the doctor who seemed resigned to the destruction of his lab and likely, himself. 

"Joe and I came up with a compromise that will keep our secrets and let you continue with your work. He's gonna _make you an offer you can't refuse._ Take the offer, James. It's your only chance." 

Amanda gave Joe a meaningful glance, then taking Nick's arm, left the laboratory. Joe pulled in an uncertain breath as he marshalled his thoughts. A lot depended on his ability to convince the doctor of what was in his best interest, and theirs. 

* * *

**_Epilogue_**

_A day later in Amanda's apartment._

Amanda is sitting, curled up on the sofa. Lucy, looking concerned, approaches. 

"You've been awfully quiet since you got back, Amanda. Is everything all right, sweetie?" 

Amanda looked up and smiled briefly. "It's odd, Lucy. In that place, time had very little meaning. I didn't know or care if it was day or night. I ate and slept, and time passed. I thought I was only gone for about two days. It was actually four. Such a strange sensation-timelessness." 

Back to pensively staring ahead, Amanda continued. "He re-opened some issues I thought I had put behind me long ago. Who are we, what are we supposed to be doing here, why are we different?" 

Sighing heavily, Amanda seemed a bit depressed. "Even having a normal life - family, children. He dangled that bright jewel in front of my eyes, and I was so tempted. Imagine, Lucy, a child of my own! But I couldn't take the chance of bringing an innocent child into my kind of life." Another heavy sigh escaped. 

"But mostly, he made me realize how much I miss MacLeod. Like a part of me is missing. I had hours and hours to think and remember." Amanda pulled a photo from her pocket and handed it to Lucy. "I guess I still have some larcenous instincts. I stole this from the doctor's briefcase." It was the photo of MacLeod and Amanda stepping off his barge, both laughing. 

"It's a good picture of MacLeod." Lucy quipped, handing it back. 

"But this is my favourite," Amanda said, showing Lucy the photo of the oil painting of MacLeod in his clan tartan. "The photo is nice to have," she mused, getting up to place it on the mantle. She glanced around the room speculatively. "But the original would be much better, about there," pointing to an empty spot on the wall. "I wonder where the painting is." 

"Amanda!" said Lucy warningly. The doorbell rang suddenly, and Lucy moved quickly to open it. Joe Dawson stood there alone, balanced on his cane, a friendly grin on his grizzled face. 

"Joe, how lovely to see you!"Lucy kissed his cheek with affection and led him into the livingroom. 

Amanda rose to meet and embrace him. Taking his arm, she guided him to the sofa, where, with evident relief, he sat down. 

"Joe, you look tired. Did everything go all right?" Amanda asked. 

Lucy brought him a glass of brandy which he sipped reflectively before answering. 

"Yeah. It took a lot of convincing but eventually we got the Doc to see our point. He's agreed to join the Watchers and take the oath. In return, we're setting his lab up at Watcher HQ. He'll even have help there from some of our own scientists. Who knows what he may come up with." 

Pausing to take another sip of brandy, he added, "He's already made some pretty remarkable discoveries." 

Joe laughed and squeezed Amanda fondly, "My favourite Martian!" 

* * *

© April 2000   
Please send comments to the author! 

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